Full-scale Warfare.
A situation where victory must be obtained by mobilizing every possible resource.
All my efforts throughout the years were solely for overcoming this trial.
As the demonic tribes swept through Acen Island, and the world seemed to be on the brink of destruction… I tightly held Lucy in my embrace.
Perhaps due to her body being riddled with wounds, Lucy moaned in pain, but I too was suffering just the same. I was pushing my own body to its limits.
Still, we needed to first get Lucy to a safe distance.
"We're going to run."
With those words to Lucy cradled in my arms, I sprinted into the alley between the barracks buildings.
The primary target of Sylvania was Lucy Mayrill.
They believed that by eliminating Lucy, who had been single-handedly holding off Bellbrook, the chained divine Dragon would be free to rampage without restraint.
Thus, removing Lucy from battle, who was now incapable of fighting, was of the utmost urgency.
Princess Phoenia and Yenika were unable to contend with Sylvania by themselves. However, escaping was still feasible.
Lucy Mayrill, too, could have run if she exerted her full power. But she chose not to, believing it was crucial to bind the feet of divine Dragon Bellbrook and the Arch Sage Sylvania.
"We'll regroup at Ophelius Hall and from there, face off against that crazed magician. Taely will deal with Bellbrook."
Holding Lucy and tightly binding her wounds, I ran with all my might, following the trail of blood that dripped from our bodies.
"This is all so very… good."
"…What?"
Even as I quickened my pace, Lucy's unexpected words prompted me to express my confusion.
"You're alive."
Lucy was not one for long speeches. She was a girl who seldom showed her emotions.
But perhaps looking back on her life, she was suddenly overcome with emotion, and she spoke with difficulty while lifting her bloodied body.
"I was worried what might happen if you had died."
"You know that."
Hearing Lucy's words that she had been worried, I decided to reassure her.
"Whatever happens, my forte is surviving."
After my words, Lucy took a deep breath. She knew it, too.
In some way or another, I would be alive. Believing this, she had tried to hold Sylvania back just a little bit longer.
"Ugh… Gak, heuk…!"
Suddenly, Lucy sneezed out blood. Frowning, I set her down against the exterior wall of a building.
Lucy was in agony. I pushed her blood-drenched hair away from her face and examined her condition.
In my rush, I only then realized that she had severe burns across one hand. In addition, her body was covered in cuts and marred by scars from magic bullets.
Her uniform ripped to shreds, revealing wounds that were severe, and upon closer inspection, the extent of the damage was unimaginable.
Moreover, she had been suffering from a high fever and coughing up blood. Occasionally, she appeared to be hallucinating, nodding her head and gesturing into the air.
I recognized this condition. I had experienced it myself when I collapsed from overexertion.
Overextending the magical energy in my body repeatedly had twisted the flow of magic through my body. This phenomenon occurs when completely depleted magic begins to regenerate without finding its normal course.
Back then, after several days bedridden, Lucy finally cut off the twisted flow of magic in my body with her own magic and resolved the issue.
It was a rather violent solution, but undoubtedly effective.
"Huh… Huh.. Uph…"
With Lucy struggling to breathe and in pain, I drew the little remaining magic in my body.
I closed my eyes and focused, feeling the flutter of Lucy's magic under my fingers placed near her solar plexus.
Her magic was tangled everywhere in her body, reflexively bouncing through her channels due to having bottomed out and then regenerated too quickly.
The core issue was that her body's healing system and magical recovery system were misaligned. Nonetheless, it was necessary to unweave the tangled magic.
Like Lucy did for me, I clenched my teeth and pulled up magic to unravel the knots in her body.
My body was hardly in a condition to be worried about others. I too needed immediate treatment. However, if I left Lucy as she was, she would certainly die.
Summoning up all my strength, I managed to redirect Lucy's magic to its proper course.
Even though her magic was only just beginning to recover, the quantity was vast given it was Lucy's magic. Just untwisting that slight flow almost completely drained me of energy.
"Ha… Ha…"
Exhausted, I managed to regain my focus as my eyes snapped open.
Lucy's breathing had stabilized somewhat. Unlike the earlier fits of spitting blood, her lungs expanded and contracted steadily with every breath. We had just overcome the immediate crisis.
Next was the severe burn on Lucy's arm. The fresh scars, bright red, seemed to form the shape of flames themselves.
The agony must be immense, given it's a new burn. It wasn't completely pain-free yet, but we needed to address the burn right away. Even though it would leave a lifelong scar, with proper treatment, there shouldn't be a permanent loss of use of the arm.
The best option would have been frost magic to create ice, but that was beyond my capabilities. Instead, I steered the wind to cool the surface of her skin and placed my hand on her forehead to draw out the fever.
Lucy's breathing gradually became even more steady. Her condition was stabilizing.
―Boom! Boooom!
The sounds of elemental magic unleashed by Sylvania echoed from the plaza entrance.
I had told Yenika to hold out as long as she could, then make an escape, but that was easier said than done.
Sylvania, having once allowed Yenika's escape, wouldn't let it happen a second or third time.
Still, if Yenika was determined to flee, it would be truly difficult to catch her. Subduing all those spirits is a matter separate from sheer power. It would be a significant drain on time.
Now that Lucy's condition had stabilized, I considered it time to move again.
―Click.
Lucy slowly opened her eyes and with her unburnt hand, she grabbed mine that was measuring her fever and brought it down to her cheek, seemingly seeking the warmth of my palm.
Then, in a dazed voice, she softly spoke…
"It's not a dream."
"..."
"I was worried that this was just a vision before death… that you being alive might just be a dream…"
"Don't worry about that. I told you I'm alive and well."
"Yes. Thanks for being alive."
The words came out awkwardly, but before I could even ask for clarification, she replied.
"I intended to die."
"Why do such a pointless thing?"
"I thought I wouldn't be able to stop them unless I was willing to die. So I was prepared to die without any second thoughts."
Lucy Mayrill had set her mind on a mutual destruction.
Even then, she wasn't sure she could overcome Sylvania, but she wanted to do everything she could.
"You gave meaning to an otherwise meaningless and vain life. Because of you."
"..."
"That's why I thought, even death for your sake would still give meaning to my life. Maybe I could say I lived it quite well. That thought… crossed my mind… and so, I wasn't as afraid to face death."
With that, Lucy drew my hand across her cheek, streaked with blood and wounds. Despite the bruised face, her half-closed eyes seemed peaceful.
"It was a curious feeling."
"If you say such an odd thing again, I'm going to get seriously upset, so listen carefully."
I removed my hand from her cheek and then dug into my pocket. Pulling out the phoenix ring, I slid it carefully onto one of Lucy's fingers.
She probably knew what this ring was, having gone with me to retrieve it from the ghost library.
"Don't think about dying for my sake, think about living for it."
"..."
"No matter what, stay alive. I already told you, death is not something to accept, no matter the reasons you come up with. Life has meaning if you live. That's why I won't say much else. I just hope you keep surviving. If you were to die, I'd feel immense loss and sorrow."
For now, the phoenix ring, which belongs to Professor Glast, is most efficient in Lucy's possession. However, right now, Lucy's magic is tangled, and she is in complete disarray, making it hard for her to draw upon the ring's power adequately. She needs some time to gather herself.
In the meantime, to prevent needless thinking or a loss of will, I spoke with certainty.
"Live on for me."
Lucy, upon hearing those words, widened her eyes in a manner most unlike her.
Accepting the ring, her face flushed with color. Anyone would be shocked to see that expression on Lucy Mayrill.
As if doubting her ears, and as if she couldn't believe the ring on her finger, she looked up, pupils dilated to their limit, and gazed at my face.
"It will be hard to move your body right now, but once your magic recovers a bit, this ring will be a massive help. Keep it with you. Besides, my physical condition is not normal either… It seems unlikely we can flee to the end like this. I'll think of another way, but for now, rest here."
"But… that ring is your trump card…"
"Didn't I make myself clear? Do I have to repeat myself?"
Lucy looked down at the ring, and with her face as red as it could be, she nodded.
Eventually, the dullness in her eyes faded, replaced by a hint of liveliness, and she murmured her reply.
"Understood."
Containing the bleeding with her barely recovered magic, Lucy pressed her lips firmly together.
"I will live for you."
"Well done."
I patted Lucy's head affectionately, then, despite immense pain, forced my body to stand.
With difficulty, I got to my feet, and my gaze fell upon Lucy, lying battered and broken.
Although she was touted as a once-in-an-epoch genius mage of the continent, sitting propped against the wall, she appeared so frail and delicate. Her slight frame and thin limbs seemed like they could snap at any moment.
When it comes down to it, everyone is vulnerable.
Driven to the brink, facing death, we are all creatures that can't help but struggle with all our might. Such is human nature.
Carefully, I rose to my feet, turning towards the plaza entrance where Yenika was confronting Sylvania.
The mad magician, Sylvania.
Ultimately, she is an enemy that cannot be contended with in a one-on-one battle. Everyone with combat capability must join to execute the 'elimination.'
The difficulty of a raid is also determined by the number of participants—the more the merrier. Although I wished to gather all the available forces… there are limits.
―Boom! Boooom!
That's when it happened.
While we were trying somehow to escape to Ophelius Hall.
Reconsidering the sky that had once been overrun by demonic tribes, this time it…
The magic circle was being dyed with a dark red hue.
The essence of this circle was vastly different from Lucy's. Though it was an unfamiliar shape, it strangely felt like something I had seen before.
As I gazed quietly into the sky, realization dawned on me about the true nature of the circle.
At that moment, I had no choice but to dash toward the entrance plaza with furrowed brows.
* * *
"Screams of terror and cries for help intermingled as Lortelle Kehal'n crossed the corridors of the Elte Trading Company.
The click-clacking of footsteps echoed while windows shattered due to Gremlin's magical outburst, and monstrous creatures of bizarre forms invaded through the broken panes.
Lortelle swiftly dispatched the demonic invaders with her ice and gravity magic and secured herself inside her office, swiftly shutting the door. Secretary Lien, trailing in, was drenched in sweat, her eyes desperately scanning Lortelle's expression. But Lortelle was the embodiment of composure, not a single drop of sweat on her brow.
"Close the windows and draw the curtains, secretary Lien."
"Yes, y-yessir!"
A flustered Lien hastily obeyed.
The chaos outside no longer reached Lortelle's ears within the sanctuary of her office. Only occasional explosions and vibrations hinted at the pandemonium beyond the walls. The state of anarchy outside was palpable.
Having just disengaged from battle, Lortelle plopped into her chair, catching her breath with deep inhales and exhales.
"Vice-Chief…," Lien's voice trembled as she called out to Lortelle, but received no immediate response.
Eyes closed, Lortelle mulled over the contents of the letter delivered by a spirit from Zenyka.
The message was clear:
"Come to Ophelius and provide aid. The Archsage Sylvania has been resurrected, bloodshed among the academy's strongest is underway. We need assistance with the Bellbrook extermination."
The letter was hastily written, its content concise in its urgency. The summon to rally and the plea for assistance with Bellbrook was one thing, but the news about Sylvania stirred confusion.
Yet the handwriting undoubtedly belonged to Ed Rothtaylor. In situations like this, it is prudent to trust and heed the call.
Even amidst the discord infesting the Elte Trading Company's Sylvania branch, Lortelle remained astonishingly composed.
Her resilience and mental fortitude served as her trademark, no matter the circumstances.
"If we are to support Ophelius, we must abandon this branch office," she muttered.
Losing the building was one thing, but the potential forfeit of stocked assets was another—assets too precious, ones that not even fortunes could buy.
Though dozens of merchants' lives were already lost, what was stock compared to that? Yet, in a branch warehouse of Elte's stature, treasures of immense value were abundant.
Even forsaking the branch's defense offered no guarantee of reaching Ophelius unscathed. The risks were monumental from every angle.
Regardless, Lortelle began planning a course of action toward Ophelius, responding to Ed's request.
To simply defend the branch was endless and futile.
Perhaps dealing with the underlying threat of Bellbrook was more sensible. And since the proposition came from Ed Rothtaylor, it could well be a gamble worth considering.
Every time Lortelle contemplated the golden-haired man, she sensed an incongruence—like he was on a different plane of existence. Since Ed began forging his path in the Sylvania Academy, Lortelle had striven to stand at his side, to walk the path beside him; yet, pivotal moments always hinted at a misalignment, a persistent discord in her heart.
Though they seemed to be walking side by side, Ed appeared always to be looking elsewhere. Increasingly, Lortelle felt a barrier, an impenetrable partition, standing between them.
Lortelle Keheln belonged to the generation of heroes within the main scenario.
Ed Rothtaylor, however, was merely an extra devoid of limelight, below the stage.
The gap between them seemed at once insignificant and insurmountable.
Lortelle did not know the detailed circumstances, yet her intuition was keen.
At times, illusions stirred before her, conjuring unease—were they dreams, or hallucinations?
In her reverie, she saw Taely McLoea striding forth, determination marked upon his face, sword sheathed at his hip, with his partner and lover Aila beside him. Princess Phoenia, learned in resolve, Zix, accustomed to the flow of civilization, Clevius, overcoming his cowardice, and Elvira, enlightened to the depth of humanity followed behind—each having endured trials, overcoming obstacles, and solidifying within the 'generation of protagonists.'
The echoes of enthusiastic applause filled the air as this steadfast procession marched the path of heroes.
In contrast, Lortelle followed at the rear, a glorified part of this protagonist generation.
And then, Ed Rothtaylor crossed their paths, moving in the opposite direction. Lacking grandeur and unpretentious, hands in his pockets, worry lining his eyes… Taely walked one way, Ed another. No spotlight, no applause, no accolades fell upon him.
In his wake followed Yenika Faelover, Lucy Mayrill, Clarice, Tyke Elphelán, Sella Ainiér Cloé, Trissiana Bloomriver…
The 'extras' departed the stage.
Suddenly, as the group passed, Lortelle looked back. They seemed to be gradually fading into the distance.
The stage they stood upon was different; regrettably, it was not Lortelle's stage.
They walked a path bathed in more light, receiving more praise, ultimately achieving happiness and fulfillment.
Only, that path did not include Ed Rothtaylor.
"Vice-Chief!"
Startled back to the present by Lien's call, Lortelle snapped to attention.
Lien did not interrupt her contemplations carelessly; the situation must be dire. Having refocused, Lortelle looked perplexedly at her secretary.
Why had the windows been opened again? A massive shadow loomed beyond, and as the foreboding dark red magic circle in the sky came into view, the identity of the shadowy figure clicked instantly in her mind.
A familiar sight—yet, when she had seen it before, it was only a fraction of its true form. Even Lortelle was momentarily shaken by the complete apparition now before her.
* * *
Yenika Faelover, a girl brought low by failure.
She had been the recipient of great expectations, abundant love, and committed herself to her endeavors. Yet, in the end, her efforts culminated in nothing but disappointment.
Consumed by frustration and despair, she lived out her school days in lethargy until her quiet graduation… and then vanished without a trace.
In every future foreseen by Sylvania, this was the unchanging truth.
The failure that befell Yenika was one her disposition and beliefs could never surmount.
Yet the looming shadow that began to rise before Sylvania's eyes wholly refuted that reality.
The dark red summoning circle that enveloped the skies was none other than the grand summoning array Yenika manifest when overtaken by Velosfer.
With her power alone, Yenika could not fully form the circle; the prowess required would consume all of her magical circuits, a ludicrous gamble.
Even with supreme elemental mastery, the circle demanded one's life in return.
But for Yenika Faelover, the supreme might of controlling this elemental power was incomparable to any other.
As the swirling shadows coalesced into the form of a demon, growing ever larger, Yenika, encircled by jagged layers of magic circles and clutching her staff, knelt down, facing a wide-eyed Sylvania.
This was a future Sylvania had never predicted, yet it was unfolding before her.
Pushed to her absolute limits, Yenika's sole determination was to protect Acken Island, wielding every possible measure.
Despite the trauma of failure gnawing at her heart, Yenika looked resolutely up to Sylvania, her pink hair turned half-white, as the sigils of dark spirits crawled upon her flesh.
Still, her 'will' was not consumed.
The power of the dark spirits did not wholly subsume her, nor strip her of consciousness.
As her body took the onslaught, the markings incessantly burrowed into her thoughts, yet Yenika ultimately quelled the power of the dark spirits, commanding it without even the need for the Phoenix Ring, by her own strength alone.
Her body seared as if engulfed in flames, pushing beyond her limits in wielding an elemental beyond her own capabilities.
And yet, her eyes remained steadfast.
Darkness draped the sky as the demonic figuration, large enough to eclipse the tallest spires in the square, stood upright—shrouding the world.
A primeval terror, the eternal shadow of myth.
The roar of Glascan, the superior dark elemental, resounded through the living quarters.
* * *
Atop Mount Orison lay the Altar of Replacement.
An ancient relic, a colossal magical construct fashioned by the Archsage Sylvania herself to channel her own power.
Before this altar knelt a man, drawing forth a torrent of magical power, his forehead damp with sweat.
Beneath the hem of his robe, a cropped head of hair and furrowed wrinkles could be seen.
While swallowing dryly, he kept channeling power into the engraved markings of the altar.
His arms were tightly bound with magical chains.
Around him lay a field of demonic corpses, his own robes completely stained with blood.
His arms raised, the man continued pouring magic into the altar without reprieve, though nearing his limit.
As his vision dimmed, he gritted his teeth once more, seeking composure even as consciousness wavered.
He was the last principal of Sylvania Academy.
Obel Forcius… gazed up at a sky descending into ruin.